Even the way he walks--where is it I've seen some
one walk like that before? And he works like a steam-engine, I hear?"
"Works!" repeated Klaus. "He'll ruin his health before long, the way he
goes on grinding. I believe he's got an idea that by much learning he
can learn at last to--Ha-ha-ha!"
"To do what?"
"Why--to understand God!"
Ferdinand was staring out of the window. "Funny enough," he said.
"I ran across him last Sunday, up among the hills. He was out studying
geology, if you please. And if there's a lecture anywhere about
anything--whether it's astronomy or a French poet--you can safely swear
he'll be sitting there, taking notes. You can't compete with a fellow
like that! He'll run across a new name somewhere--Aristotle, for
instance. It's something new, and off he must go to the library to look
it up. And then he'll lie awake for nights after, stuffing his head with
translations from the Greek. How the deuce can any one keep up with
a man who goes at things that way? There's one thing, though, that he
knows nothing about."
"And that is?"
"Well, wine and women, we'll say--and fun in general. One thing he
isn't, by Jove!--and that's YOUNG."
"Perhaps he's not been able to afford that sort of thing," said
Ferdinand, with something like a sigh.
The two sat on for some time, and every now and then, when Klaus was off
his guard, Ferdinand would slip in another little question about Peer.
And by the time they had finished their second glass, Klaus had admitted
that people said Peer's mother had been a--well--no better than she
should be.
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